


Man Waxing And Dangerous Yelp Reviews

by elbowsinsidethedoor



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, Jealous John, M/M, sacrilegious removal of Harold's chest hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6823366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elbowsinsidethedoor/pseuds/elbowsinsidethedoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold visits the salon for a soft wax treatment!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man Waxing And Dangerous Yelp Reviews

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to JinkyO for solving the mystery of why Harold's body descriptions so often include massive amounts of body hair never seen in 4 + seasons of POI. JinkyO directed me to Ben Linus google images where I found the source. As I indicated in our traded comments, Ben Linus may have been a furry little hobbit but Harold Finch, for all we know, might regularly visit Guillermo the man-wax pro. And now the tale is told.

On a sunny spring day Harold Crane was selecting fabrics for a number of new summer suits. He pointed to a linen swatch, one of an array the stylist had spread out for him to inspect.  
  
"This one is called, Fresh Cream," said Bruno, a stylist who'd worked for Harold's tailor for many years.  
  
"It's lovely," Harold said, but had doubts when he held it against his skin. "Maybe just a bit too much yellow undertone for me."  
  
He'd already been to the fitting room for updated measurements, and was enjoying a cup of tea in the showroom while reviewing new fabrics.  
  
Bruno's latest apprentice appeared with a selection of undershirts for him to consider. All of them with crew necks. Harold, who always wore V-necked undershirts in summer, looked at the young man and smiled and then at Bruno who corrected the youngster in soft but rapid Italian.  
  
Unfortunately, Harold understood enough Italian to learn that the young man had observed Signor Crane during his fitting, saw his hairy chest and assumed he'd want this style of underwear to conceal it.  
  
"It's quite alright, Bruno," Harold said. "This style will be a refreshing change. Don't scold the boy."  
  
The youngster backed away, bowing and blushing.  
  
"So sorry," Bruno said.  
  
"Think nothing of it," Harold told him.  
  
Of course, Harold did think about it. Later, sitting in the warm library, in shirtsleeves, he thought about cool smooth skin. He thought about John's smooth chest and how much he enjoyed touching it, kissing it. This was a great distraction for awhile from thinking about his own body.  
  
Then he remembered the charming young woman at the spa who'd given him a facial and shave during his last visit. Hadn't she said something about someone named Guillermo, a waxing specialist who could take care of the stray hairs climbing the back of his neck? More thorough, she'd said, a longer-lasting job than she could do with the razor.  
  
His fingers moved on the keyboard and up came a flurry of online reviews written by the aesthetician's clients. The comments were all positive, "sensitive hands … worked out all my rough areas … handled personal contact discreetly … thoroughly satisfied … luxurious indulgence … "  
  
Before he could change his mind, Harold called the spa to book a session with Guillermo for his first available appointment. It wasn't just the idea that a smooth contour would be attractive. Waxing appealed to Harold's hygiene and grooming sensibilities. The hair on his chest, the strays at the top of his back were becoming increasingly unruly, shaggy. Chest and back, definitely, he thought, but really, in for a penny, in for a pound … he might as well consider cleaning up other areas.  
  
"I'll just get this taken care of," he told Bear when the receptionist delivered the news that a last minute cancellation had freed up Guillermo's afternoon. Within minutes of making his decision, Harold suited up Bear in his service harness and they were on their way to the spa.  
  
***  
  
Guillermo was delightful, Harold thought. Very attentive. A young man from Madrid who was tall and slim and easy on the eyes. Also easy on the ears with his soft Castilian accent.  
  
"Don't believe what you've heard Mr Crane, there's nothing to be afraid of. We use the most expensive soft wax and the discomfort is minimal."  
  
Harold lay naked on the spa table following a brief but refreshing shower. When Guillermo had taken the plush spa robe from his shoulders and invited him to lie down, he'd draped Harold's lower body with a towel. The spa room was spacious, immaculate and professionally equipped. The decor, muted in flattering rose tones. Harold was feeling relaxed and happy with his decision. Even the lighting was restful; a swing-mounted fixture allowed for spotlighting while overall illumination was dimmed.  
  
"We'll begin with the chest, it is the most sensitive area," Guillermo said. "Especially here and here," touching just under Harold's collarbone. "You are not extremely hairy, so I think you'll bear it quite well and when it's done, beautiful."  
  
The hot wax was the consistency of honey. It smelled luscious and felt … wonderful as Guillermo spread it on him with a wooden spatula.  
  
"This is the soft wax method," he explained, pressing a strip of muslin into the wax. Then he … pulled, removing the hair. Harold found it tolerable and Guillermo was evidently very efficient because the process moved along swiftly.  
  
Harold was thinking he could happily make this a monthly ritual. His body was tingling all over as Guillermo proceeded to the more intimate areas.  
  
"Men appreciate that this makes their equipment look larger …" he said, uncovering Harold. "But for you, of course, that is an unnecessary benefit." He winked.  
  
When Guillermo spread Harold's ass cheeks and buttered the sensitive skin, his sphincter clutched and he felt his cock swelling.  
  
"Most men do become erect during this procedure," the young man assured him. "It's nothing to be shy about. We're men, yes? It happens when we're touched." He gently handled Harold's stiffening penis as he spread the honey-like wax around the base of his shaft and down over his balls.  
  
"Harold," he heard John's voice in his ear and jumped in alarm. "I know where you are and I'm on my way in. Very sloppy leaving the evidence up on your screen."  
  
"What evidence, John?" Oh Lord, he thought, picturing his lover reading the reviews he'd been scanning and not knowing what the hell an aesthetician was. "It's a waxing appointment!"  
  
They heard the commotion of voices outside the door. A woman yelled, "Stop, you can't go in there!" before it banged open and John was there, filling the doorway, steaming with jealousy and radiating menace. Harold could dimly see a gaggle of people crowded in the corridor behind him, hovering but afraid to interfere. Bear, who'd been curled up peacefully in a corner throughout the appointment, now leapt up growling, effectively scattering the crowd outside the door.  
  
Guillermo, caught clutching Harold's cock, snatched his hand back like he'd been burnt and dropped behind the table to hide.  
  
Harold silenced Bear.  
  
"Waxing?" John said, like the word had no meaning.  
  
"Yes," Harold said, exasperated. "Waxing, as in removing hair!"  
  
John blinked, he seemed to gain a measure of control and turned to shut the door behind him.  
  
"Waxing, for the love of God," Harold reiterated helplessly, torn between scolding John and reassuring his frightened aesthetician. "I made the appointment and left in a hurry. Oh Guillermo, please, it's all right. Come up here. Look what you've done, John. You scared him to death."  
  
"Why was he … touching you?"  
  
"He was touching me because he was trying to remove the hair on my balls! Now, please take Bear home and let us finish." He stared at John. John stared back, if he was chastened, it didn't show.  
  
John broke off the stare-down to let his gaze roam over Harold's body, appraising, lingering on his now very naked chest before moving downward. Harold knew that look, the features relaxing, lips no longer compressed, jaw loosened. He was appreciating what he was seeing.  
  
Grateful as he was to see lust overcoming anger in his lover's eyes, Harold didn't welcome it now.  
  
"Please go, John."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere," he said, and moved around to the other side of the table to flush Guillermo out of his hiding place. He picked him up like he was a child and set him on his feet. Bear, still alert though silent, returned to his bed in the corner at John's command.  
  
John then offered the young Spaniard a smile that Harold thought might possibly be more frightening than the violent entrance.  
  
"Guillermo, please forgive him," Harold said, mortified. "Take a deep breath. I'm so sorry this happened. Are you able to finish? "  
  
"I can finish," he said, looking at Harold. "But, I have to touch you," he added, looking at John.  
  
"Any … touching …  will be done by me," John said, shrugging off his suit jacket. He tossed it to a chair and started rolling up his sleeves. Harold looked at him with a plea to be reasonable but saw in his eyes that reason was on vacation ... in a distant land. There was no use complaining, demanding or protesting. Harold now just prayed it would all be over soon.  
  
John was turning his attention to his half-waxed crotch and Harold couldn't help but cringe a little. Then his lover's long-fingered hand wrapped around his swollen penis with a touch so surprisingly tender that Harold began to get hard again, in spite of how disastrous and absurd the situation had become. John was caressing him subtly and Harold understood that the man couldn't allow anyone else to do this.  
  
John pointed and said, "I think you need more wax, there."  
  
"Si." A somewhat shaky Guillermo nodded agreement and gathered a golden scoop onto a fresh wooden spatula, spreading it where John indicated. He carefully placed the strip of muslin.  
  
It was torturously arousing. The work lamp cast a spotlight, like his cock and balls were the stars of some erotic play. Two serious-faced men studying his engorged genitals. John's fingers lightly stroking and teasing; his lust-heavy voice directing Guillermo's placement of the hot wax. Harold's hard-on was rampant. He was sweating, stinging and swollen; his dick was leaking a steady shiny stream, twitching in John's hand. By the time Guillermo announced he'd finished, Harold was struggling to control his breathing.  
  
"There is only the aloe vera treatment … the after care," said Guillermo, gesturing at the bottle on the table near the wax. "It costs a little extra but it should be applied everywhere we removed the hair," he added, almost apologetically.  
  
"I'll take care of it," John said. The young man backed up and out the door.  
  
"So unnecessary …" Harold said with half a voice when they were at last alone, gazing at his partner, shaking his head.  
  
"Don't … say another word," John warned him. He picked up the lotion bottle, upended it over Harold's smooth chest and squeezed it in swirls like a chef saucing a plate.  
  
It was as sweetly startling as cold water under a blazing sun, heavenly on his irritated skin. Harold gasped as John painted his belly and down around his dick.  
  
"Spread your legs," he told him and Harold did, gladly, to separate his burning ass cheeks. John delivered a drenching river of cool that was bliss.  
  
Then John started at Harold's chest to spread the liquid with his hands; spanning his ribs, squeezing and slippery on his tits, wet fingertips pinching his nipples. Through half open eyes Harold saw him pour more aloe. Shivers of pleasure ran through him as cool slick fingers soothed his waxed crack, his balls and the base of his cock.  
  
John bent over him and started to suck.  
  
"No … yes," Harold gasped his last coherent thought. The combination of cool on his burning skin and hot lips and tongue was killing him; he thrust in and out of wet, licking heat, pumping his dick into the softness and sucking; he moaned uncontrollably as he came, flooding John's mouth with thick gushes of sperm. Then he lay heaving and weak on the table.  
  
"Oh god," he groaned. "What have we done?"  
  
John looked down at him, serene, drying his hands on a towel. He wiped a stray drop from the corner of his mouth and took a swig of the spa's designer water before handing the bottle to Harold.  
  
"Drink," he said, and helped him sit up. Harold winced a little from the touch on his shoulders. "More aloe?" John asked and Harold managed to grunt an assent.  
  
He let him help him back into his clothes, a little wobbly on his feet. The burning, post-waxing irritation was worse with his pants and shirt on. Buttoning his pants he took note of John's, and frowned at the large wet spot he saw darkening the fabric by his zipper.  
  
"Really?" he said, looking up.  
  
"Smooth looks pretty hot on you, Finch."  
  
With John on one side and Bear in harness on the other, Harold limped through the salon feeling like Hester Prynne. He was still blushing as he wrote a check for five times the total on the bill to assuage his conscience for John's behavior, for his own uncharacteristic abandon. Poor Guillermo, he thought, writing a separate hefty check for the traumatized aesthetician.  
  
Beside him, with typical sang-froid, John asked the concierge for two large bottles of aloe vera lotion and said in an audible whisper, "I hope you're not paying for the after care."  
  
Seriously. What was the man made of? Harold looked up into his partner's face as he slid the second check across the counter and saw his satisfied smile.  
  
Harold sighed.  
  
"Monthly visits," the concierge said, drawing his attention, "are recommended for maintenance. Would you like to schedule your return visit now?"  
  
Well, the sky hadn't fallen, he thought. No actual scarlet letter was sewn to his clothes. People were going about their business. Guillermo, keeping a polite distance at the salon coffee-bar, caught his eye and winked. Someone was petting Bear.  
  
"Yes," Harold answered after a pause, "I suppose I might as well." It seemed that waxing might become a delightful ritual, after all.


End file.
